Gertrude of Wyoming: And Other Poems, 第 2 卷

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1814 - 250页

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第148页 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
第165页 - I'll forgive your Highland chief. My daughter ! Oh ! my daughter...
第176页 - Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.
第164页 - I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.' The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her, When, oh ! too strong for human hand, The tempest gathered o'er her.
第155页 - OF Nelson and the North Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on.
第161页 - I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. — And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. His horsemen hard behind us ride ; Should they our...
第136页 - Glenullin ! whose bride shall await, Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning : no rider is there ; But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
第148页 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below, — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow ; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
第156页 - British line : It was ten of April morn by the chime, As they drifted on their path, There was silence deep as death ; And the boldest held his breath, For a time. But the might of England flush'd To anticipate the scene ; And her van the fleeter rush'd O'er the deadly space between.
第159页 - By the festal cities blaze, Whilst the wine-cup shines in light ; And yet amidst that joy and uproar Let us think of them that sleep, Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore.

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